


The Sun

by storygatherer (zetsubou69)



Category: Dir en grey, Jrock, X JAPAN
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 03:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubou69/pseuds/storygatherer
Summary: They say he's very passionate, when it comes to music. They said it about both of them.If only they knew.





	The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted: 2014-03-02

When it comes to music, passion is the key. You hear it everywhere, or more, you witness it everywhere. Those who lack passion don't succeed. Conquering the world is hard, so passion is the key.

And they say he's very passionate, when it comes to music. They said it about both of them.

If only they knew.

 

***

 

There is so much passion for music and other aspects of his life, that there is nothing left for the life itself.

Until they meet again.

 

***

 

And they meet again.

There are polite smiles, well-chosen words and a few sentences spoken so silently by the shorter man, just for his ears. And he hears.

Eyes meet, soft smiles appear. Finally, neither feels like chasing the other one (away).

They cover up the tension by nervous laughter and story from a lifetime ago.

 

***

 

Doors click close.

"How are you doing?" he asks the smaller one, playing with his hair nervously, while kicking off his shoes.

"Good," the singer breathes out, and he's getting lost in the kind eyes.

"It's... it's good to see you again."

They kiss hesitantly. Distance killed the bond between them, but a small sparkle of passion remained. He can feel small hands hold onto his waist and he smells sweat and perfume of short platinum blond hair.

"It's good to see you again too."

Lights click off.

 

***

 

They forgot how to make love. So they fuck.

They are rough with each other. The pianist bites and claws and squeezes the lithe body above him and the smaller man crushes pianist's wrists in his hand until the one beneath almost screams for the tattooed man to stop. Instead, he almost chokes on him.

It's men dying of thirst being given wine instead of water. It's purely physical. It's despair and it smells of sun and tastes of orange marmalade and tears.

 

***

 

The smaller one insists on cuddling afterwards and who was he to decline such an offer.

He listens to the sound of the singer breathing and with his fingertips he touches the soft skin, tracing the lines of tattoos, both old and new ones. Remembering. Memorizing.

"Thanks for initiating this," he can hear the singer purr into his pillow.

He has ten thousand meaning of that sentence run through his mind, including writing that purr down as melody. Instead of that he digs his fingers into the tiger tattoo and kisses the goddess inked into the soft skin.

 

***

 

Morning greets the tattooed singer with the smell of coffee and sound of Bach's Goldberg Variations.

"I have a new phone number," the singer mumbles.

"I figured that before. Care to share?" the pianist smiles.

A tattooed hand reaches for a pencil and writes down a line of numbers onto one page of the music sheets.

The pianist just keeps smiling.

"I will make sure to answer your calls," he says and pulls the platinum blond singer into his arms.

 

***

 

Even after a week, he can still taste the sun in his mouth.

In his life.


End file.
